


i quit my dancing just to be around you

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Ass Play, Breathplay, F/F, Humiliation, Pool Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: Untying the leather band from around her wrist, Akila twists her hair up onto her head and secures it there. The suggestion of her smile pins Artemis. “Where do you want to kiss me?” She folds one leg over another, posture perfect. Artemis is not the most lyrically-inclined of the Bana-Mighdall Amazons, but as their poets say, sometimes a goddess shall appear in the flesh.





	i quit my dancing just to be around you

**Author's Note:**

> title from ["unfucktheworld"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DouPf-UDY4c) by angel olsen.
> 
> mind the tags! the sex is consensual, but this relationship is _not_ healthy.

“Stop it.” As she brushes out her black hair, still weighted with wet, Akila slices Artemis with obsidian-sharp eyes.

Artemis cups her hands around her knees. Her thumb-pad scratches along a purpling scab along the side of their leg, a prize from their sword sparring this afternoon. “Come in the water.”

“I have already had my bath.” Akila tosses her head, and her hair shines in the honeycomb light of dusk through the high stone windows overlooking the shallow pool.

“Then I will have to dirty you again until you need another.” Skimming her hands through water, she flicks droplets all over Akila’s thighs.

Tensing, Akila draws her legs up higher. Her muscle bunches deliciously, and gooseflesh prickles along her brown skin. Ten perfect pink toes curl. “I told you to stop it, Artemis. The hour grows late, and we will have to wake before dawn for training once more tomorrow.” 

“What will help you rest better than this?” Artemis slides her hands under Akila’s heels, and they feel warm despite being dipped in the water. She squeezes the toughened balls of her feet and when the tightness in Akila’s shoulders eases for a moment, she drags her forward by her hard calves.

“Artemis.” Akila frowns. Her hands planted behind her body shift, and she rolls her head forward, long strands of hair sticking to the light sweat on skin exposed by her chest wrap.

Artemis peels back her hair and twists it off to the side, holding the length of it like heavy silk rope as she nudges her mouth along her warm shoulder. She mouths across her chest, licks at a rivulet of salt down the underside of her arm. Looks up, licking her off her lips. “I want to kiss you.”

Untying the leather band from around her wrist, Akila twists her hair up onto her head and secures it there. The suggestion of her smile pins Artemis. “Where do you want to kiss me?” She folds one leg over another, posture perfect. Artemis is not the most lyrically-inclined of the Bana-Mighdall Amazons, but as their poets say, sometimes a goddess shall appear in the flesh.

And if she were a poet, perhaps she could tell her she would give her a thousand kisses, until the harvest of their kissing were rich as golden grain. Perhaps she would tell her she would kiss her until her lips tattooed her skin. Artemis is not a poet. Seizing her hips, she drags her forward and bites at the black track of hair down her belly. “Must I choose?”

“I’ll choose for you.” Akila kicks a leg over her shoulder and buries her heel between Artemis’s naked shoulders. A coil of her panther-powerful muscle, and she crowds her between her thighs. 

If Artemis were a poet, she could call this the place where sea meets sky. But she is only a woman, and she has no tablet or stylus, no papyrus or brush, only two hands and blood beneath her skin. Her fingers shake as she plucks open the knot below Akila’s navel. Artemis unpeels the skirt from around Akila’s hips, curved as apples, and Akila lifts her leg to allow her to pull the fabric from under her body.

Akila hisses at the chill of tile on her bare backside, and Artemis rectifies it by grabbing her plump cheeks. Akila gasps half a laugh, and Artemis digs in her fingers. Drags her forward. With a splash, Akila lands in the water, in her arms. “Satisfied now?” she murmurs when Artemis closes her arms around her waist and brings them in, chest-to-chest.

“Not until you are satisfied.” Under the water, Artemis’s fingers trace down the valley between Akila’s cheeks. One fingertip tucks over her asshole, teases the sensitive skin around the tight muscle. 

Akila tilts her head in for a kiss. She suckles at her lower lip, fingers brushing down the wiry hair under Artemis’s arms and down her bare side. From their earlier light meal, she tastes of grapes, fresh off the vine and out of the sun.

Gripping her lower back with both hands, Artemis drinks every one of her kisses. Her fingertip teases at her hole again, and slicking it with a swipe against Akila’s soft wet lips, Artemis pushes it just inside the tight, forbidden space.

Akila groans low, and Artemis teases her very gently, just around the rim. “Is it good?” she mumbles. Lowering her mouth to Akila’s neck, she bites her brown skin.

“Do you need me to tell you that?” Akila asks. Bouncing up on her foot in the water, she tries to push herself against Artemis’s knuckles, get the stimulation she so desperately needs on her clit. 

“Sometimes I like to hear it.” Her knuckles only bump against her, pad of her thumb brushing up the side of her clit for just a second. Fucks into her with her finger. Artemis swallows her answering moan with a kiss.

Akila, not quite so enamored with kissing--not quite so enamored--pulls her back. “If you want praise, earn it.”

Humiliation prickles across Artemis’s shoulders. She is not accustomed to anything less than absolute pride. Bending her head, she sucks at Akila’s neck again and then keeps kissing down her body. The tight bindings compress her breasts, and she licks briefly into the salty valley between them. Water is already lapping up Artemis’s neck.

Akila’s fingers twist in her hair and push her head down until her chin touches the water, and a helpless sound meanders from Artemis’s mouth. “Hold your breath.”

Willingly, Artemis draws air into her lungs and shuts her eyes tight. With one hand, the other slipping away from her backside to join it, she feels at Akila’s body blindly, trying to orient herself. Then she sinks into the silk-cool pool.

Bubbles burst from her lips between underwater kisses, and she tries to steady her breathing. It’s hard to steady anything around Akila. 

Hair floating heavy around her face, she goes to lick past Akila’s thick curls. Even surrounded by cold water, she can feel the blood-warmth of her on her tongue. Lapping at her clit, she penetrates her with two fingers. She only manages two minute thrusts into her ass before she can’t handle it anymore. Pushing up, she breaks the surface and gasps for air.

Akila reclines against the edge of the pool, elbows on the tiled rim. She raises her eyebrows and reaches underwater, spreading herself.

Cheeks going red, Artemis kisses her jaw and then drops back down to her knees on the bottom of the pool again. She taps Akila’s thighs, and Akila sweeps them apart, hips undulating. Artemis’s moan bubbles to the surface in a loss of precious air. Shaking her head, feeling her hair drag at her movements Artemis dives forward again. 

Could count her heartbeats, Akila's so hot here, if Artemis had space left in her brain to do anything but chase Akila’s pleasure. 

Akila’s pleasure, which she vocalizes into the echoing room as though she wants them to be caught, and Artemis can hear so loud and clear even distorted underwater. 

Artemis puckers her lips around her thick clit. She can barely point her tongue off to the side of it before her lungs scream for air.

Resurfacing feels even more like failure. Akila tosses her hair back over her shoulder and stares back at her, disdain reflecting in her irises. “An Amazon who cannot vanquish me in a spar and cannot even hold her breath?” She tips her chin up with a finger. “What _can_ you do?”

Artemis lowers her eyelashes. Her skin simmers. Upset and _not._ “I can make you come.”

Akila twists her fingers in her hair, and while she knows what’s coming, it still knocks some of the breath she so desperately needs out of her when she shoves her back underwater. This time she opens her eyes to see her dark thighs, her dark lips. Grasping at her needily, Artemis pushes her tongue inside her and smears her face against her clit, messy, like she’s never had sex before. She’s never had sex like this with anyone but Akila, sex that takes her so low and brings her so high. 

Her entire reason for being narrows to the ripe space between Akila’s thighs.

Chest burning, she rises again and then collapses against Akila, broad shoulders heaving against hers.

Akila raises a hand and pets her hair as though she’s a girl to comfort. “I suppose you did your best.”

Artemis bites her lip hard and leans away from Akila, looking away. She’s still struggling for air. She fought, and she lost. Artemis does not like to lose.

Sighing, Akila clambers out of the pool, all rolling muscle and insulting ease. She bends for Artemis’s dry towel, which gives her an unabashed view of her perfect ass before she ties the towel around her vase-curved hips. “Then I will have to finish it myself.” Her hand trails up her thigh and lifts the edge of her towel and Artemis _loses_ it.

Hands slamming against the tile of the pool, Artemis swings her body out of the pool and after Akila. Her hands seize her hips to pull her back against her body.

Akila laughs as though she planned this, throwing her head back to look at Artemis. _Mocking._ “Can you bring me more pleasure than my own hand?” Her arm bends, hand darting under the towel, and by the way her brows push together, Artemis _knows_ her fingers have found her neglected clit.

A throb between her own legs, and Artemis can’t help but grind against her ass, mouth falling to her shoulder. Her teeth sink into her skin, and Akila gasps and rubs harder, elbow in Artemis’s ribs. Artemis catches her elbow. “Please.”

“Please?” Akila lifts up on her toes and pushes her ass against her. 

“Please let me taste you again.” Artemis swallows. “I will be good this time.”

Her head tips from side to side.

Taking her forearm, Artemis guides Akila’s hand and sucks off the taste of her, filling her mouth with her fingers, eyes big and begging.

Akila pulls her hand back none too gently, but she sighs and places her palms against the wall. Her sodden cloth bindings cling to her beautiful back. 

Artemis has bared everything to her, and Akila never even removed the wrappings around her chest. She can’t help but press her hand to herself as she thuds to her knees on the floor. Reaching up, she grabs her cheeks and pulls them apart. While the pool has washed away much of her richness, Artemis tastes her thick musk on her tongue still as she laps over her, again and again. Frantic now, she lifts her hand and scrubs over her clit with dripping fingertips. She has to be good. She has to be good.

Akila’s hips jerk once, twice. Then her hand buries itself in Artemis’s hair, nails clawing into her scalp. Dragging her head forward, she buries Artemis’s face in her heat and screams her climax. Her fist thumps against the wall, strong body flashing rigid. 

Slick slides down Artemis’s chin as she pulls away. She feels she has run the length of the Nile and drowned in it. Leaning back on her knees, she brings her closed fist between her legs and closes her thighs on it. She needs it. She needs something.

“Gods, Artemis, you perform better under pressure, don’t you?” Akila’s palm slides down the wall, and she lifts her head with a laugh that if Artemis were a poet, she would say shines copper in the silver moonlight now bathing her body.

But because she is not a poet, she can only say that her laugh dances down into her belly and makes her drip onto the tile. She lifts her head, and Akila suddenly bundles herself into her lap, arms hooking loosely around her shoulders. 

Her thighs settle, and torturously, she _adjusts_ over her. Her eyes say she knows what she is doing, and she knows everything she has done. “I was only making fun,” she whispers, words at her ear, as she clambers off her lap and kneels next to her. “You are good. Second best, after all.” 

_Second best._ Artemis’s callused hands curl against the floor as her hips jerk into nothing, and Akila only pats her cheek. 

Akila, always beyond her even when beside her.


End file.
